


Got Your Back

by gelowo93



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Relapsing, mentioned Shitty/Lardo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3312557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelowo93/pseuds/gelowo93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tension is running high in the Haus, the day they’re due to travel to Boston for the NCAA Division One Championship matches, and it’s only made worse when Jack’s anxiety makes a reappearance.  Fortunately, Eric is there to get him through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got Your Back

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks as usual to Josh for beta-ing this for me, and I'd also like to thank holycowomgitsjenn on tumblr for helping me figure out hockey championships. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.
> 
> Lyrics at the beginning are from "Shake It Off" by Taylor Swift, because I listened to that song far too much while writing this.

“ _…I never miss a beat,_

_I’m lightning on my feet,_

_And that’s what they don’t see,_

_That’s what they don’t see…”_

Eric’s laptop was on his desk, blasting out his pre-game playlist. It was louder than normal – the volume he played his music increased with nerves – but no one had told him to turn it down yet. He was dancing around his room and singing along, slowly packing his Samwell sports bag.

They’d gotten to the Frozen Four; Eric still couldn’t believe it. They would be driving to Boston that evening to check into the hotel, ready for the practice session tomorrow morning.

There was a nervous energy in the Haus that even the walls seemed to shake with. Everyone was keeping to themselves, busy packing or doing their best to distract themselves from their nerves. Eric had passed Ransom and Holster in the hall - on trips to the bathroom to collect some things to pack, or to the kitchen to get a snack - before going back to their rooms. None of them had said much aside from a mumbled greeting, each being caught up in their own thoughts. Eric didn’t think Shitty was in the Haus – he was probably at Lardo’s – and Jack could be anywhere from skating at Faber to working on a paper at the library. They were all going to get together for a Haus dinner later, though; Eric had insisted on making sure that everyone got a decent meal before they left.

Eric’s sports bag was almost full to bursting point, and he was debating whether to pack another couple of sweaters when there was a shout loud enough for him to hear over his music.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING?”

Eric froze. A small part of his brain was surprised that Shitty was in the Haus after all, but the larger part was in shock. Shitty never shouted at anyone, the only person Eric knew who was more laid back than Shitty was Nursey.

Eric opened his bedroom door and stood in the doorway, peering out into the hall. Looking to his right, he could see Ransom and Holster’s heads poking around the corner that led to the stairs going up to the attic. There were no more loud shouts, but now Eric could hear muffled voices coming from either Jack or Shitty’s room. Ransom and Holster stared at Eric. Eric stared back.

“You’re closer,” Ransom said, and Eric sighed.

Shitty’s bedroom door was open. Eric closed his own behind him before walking across the hall.

He knocked on the door first, not expecting an answer. When he didn’t get one, Eric looked in. There were clothes on the floor as if they’d been thrown there as Shitty had taken them off and had never bothered to move them. Every surface in the room was covered in textbooks, or stacks of paper, or overstuffed file folders. The walls couldn’t be seen for the posters hung up on them, and there was a half-packed sports bag underneath the window opposite the door. The smell of pot hit Eric as he stepped into Shitty’s room, but he ignored it. Eric followed the sound of Shitty’s voice to the bathroom he shared with Jack.

That was empty too, but the door leading from the bathroom to Jack’s room was open, and Eric could see Shitty and Jack in there. They both had their backs to Eric. Shitty was standing in the doorway between the bathroom and Jack’s room, and Jack was walking away from him.

“…not a big deal –” Jack said. Shitty cut him off.

“Are you shitting me? That’s a lie and you know it. Give me the bottle.”

“Shitty…”

“No. You know that if _anyone_ gets wind of this, that’s it. No NHL team will sign you, they don’t want an ex-druggie who’s going to relapse anytime the stakes get a little too high – ”

“That’s not –” Jack’s voice was rising now.

“Yes, it is. That’s how they’re all going to see it –” Shitty gestured around him “-They don’t fucking care if you only took one, they don’t care if you only have an unopened bottle because it makes you feel better. All they’re going to see is a potential train wreck when it turns out that playing professional is too fucking much. This was your chance to prove to them that you can deal with the stress and the pressure and they’re going to find out that you fucked it up.”

Shitty strode forwards, grabbing at Jack’s arm. He struggled, trying to shake off Shitty’s hand. Jack won, but he turned around to face Shitty anyway, and it was only then that Eric saw that Jack was holding a small bottle in his hand. Shitty made a grab at it, but Jack moved too fast for him, and lifted his hand out of Shitty’s reach. Shitty pulled on Jack’s arm, trying to bring it down to his level.

That was when Jack’s gaze drifted from Shitty, and landed on Eric, who was standing in the doorway and looking wide eyed at the scene in front of him.

Jack’s focus slipped for barely a moment, but it was enough for Shitty to gain the advantage. He got a proper grip on Jack’s arm and dragged it down until Jack’s hand was within his reach. Jack fumbled his grip on the bottle, nearly dropping it. Shitty made a grab for it and missed, accidently smacking it out of Jack’s hand. They both tried to catch it, but instead ended up knocking it further out of their reach. It crashed onto the wooden floor, cracking the lid and spilling little white balls as it rolled away from Jack and Shitty, stopping at Eric’s feet.

“Bittle,” Jack said. His voice was hard, his face pale and emotionless. The small smile that Eric was used to seeing on Jack’s face whenever they hung out together was gone.

Eric knelt down to pick up the bottle and stood back up, not making eye contact with Jack. He wasn’t certain what his face was showing - shock, fear, or disappointment – and he didn’t want Jack to get a proper view of him.

The label on the bottle had a long scientific name that he didn’t understand. He didn’t need to, not after hearing Jack and Shitty’s conversation.

“Seventeen,” Shitty said, and Eric raised his head to look at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There’s no way there’d be that many in a full bottle. How many have you taken?” When Jack didn’t answer straight away, Shitty turned to Eric. “How many does it say on it?”

Eric glanced down at the bottle in his hands. “Twenty-five.”

“Fuck.” All the anger went out of Shitty’s voice. “How long have you been taking them? How did you even get them? If you knew you were getting this bad why didn’t you fucking talk to someone?”

Jack’s stony face cracked; he closed his eyes, and Eric thought he saw his mouth twitch downwards in a grimace before Jack took a deep breath. “I messed up, okay? It’s just _everything_ , with finals and the team and figuring out who to sign for, and my dad –”

“It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. All you’re going to think about are the matches this weekend. If you have to train constantly so you can sleep without getting yourself stressed out, then you do it.”

“I can’t do it. I can’t, Shitty. I need the tablets, maybe not always, but right now…” Jack was looking down at his feet.

“No. You can do this and you fucking will. You want to play NHL? You’re going to play like you’ve never before and ace these games because there’s no one better than you. Recruiters are going to watch and wonder why they ever doubted you. You’ve got to be better than you’ve ever been before…” Shitty’s tirade didn’t stop. He wasn’t even paying attention to Jack now, looking at him but not really seeing him.

Jack was shaking his head, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly. He was squeezing his hands together as if in an attempt to stop them from shaking, but it wasn’t working. From what Eric could see of his face, Jack had gone even paler than before and his mouth was opening and closing, gulping down air.

“Shitty,” Eric said, just loud enough for him to hear. Shitty stopped mid-sentence to spin round and look at him. Eric nodded in Jack’s direction. Realisation dawned on Shitty’s face as he took in Jack’s white face and shaking hands.

“Fuck. I – fuck. Jack…”

Eric hesitated before walking forwards. He pocketed the pill bottle before putting an arm around Jack and leading him to the bed. Jack let Eric manoeuvre him into position so that he was leaning over with his head between his knees. Jack moved his hands so they were clasped on the nape of his neck, and started taking deep slow breaths.

Eric sat down next to him, albeit a little way away so as not to crowd him. Shitty was still standing in the middle of the room. His shoulders sagged, all the anger having left him, and he looked on helplessly. Eric didn’t have anything to say to him, not right now; his attention was focused on Jack. After a few heartbeats, Shitty wordlessly turned around and left through the door leading to the hallway, closing it behind him.

Jack was still taking great wracking breaths that shook his entire body. It took Eric a moment to realise that the noise he could hear in between Jack’s deep breaths was him crying.

Eric knew about the panic attacks, of course he did. They were hardly a secret, even if no one talked about them. Everyone in the Haus had helped Jack through one at some point, apart from Eric. This was the first time Eric had done more than poke his head around the door to silently ask whoever had found Jack first whether he was okay.  They would nod, and Eric would go to the kitchen to bake his signature blackberry rhubarb pie, timing it perfectly so that it would be cool enough to eat when Jack emerged from his room.

Being the person to look after Jack scared Eric. He’d never really seen Jack cry, because Jack didn’t let anyone see him cry. At worst he’d allow himself a moment of weakness in the locker room, to let whatever it was getting him down overwhelm him. But then he would hold his head high and power through whatever it was, proving to himself and everyone else that it didn’t matter what had happened in his past, he could do anything he put his mind to.

Seeing Jack now, Eric wondered how much of that was just for show. How long did Jack really spend dwelling on losses, or bad practices?

Eric put his hand on Jack’s back, and began rubbing circles in an attempt to help him relax. Jack stiffened infinitesimally, and Eric was about to pull away when the tightness in Jack’s muscle’s disappeared and he visibly relaxed, letting out one drawn out breath.

“Do you want me to stay?” asked Eric.

Jack didn’t answer. Eric didn’t want to leave him like this, and if Jack really didn’t want him there then he was sure he would have said.

So Eric stayed.

And because he didn’t know the best way to comfort someone during an anxiety attack, Eric did the only thing he could do: talk.

“It’s going to be okay, you know,” Eric said softly. When Jack didn’t respond, he carried on, “The NHL teams aren’t going to find out about this, it’s not going to affect anything. We’ll get to Boston and forget about it. You can focus on the game, and that’s what the recruiters and GM’s will judge you on, and you’ll be brilliant. You always are. I’ve never seen you play a bad game –”

“Bittle,” said Jack, and Eric paused mid-sentence. “Just… stop.”

Eric flushed. “Right. Sorry.”

They sat in silence, the only noise being Jack’s deep breathing and the muffled sound of Eric’s laptop still playing music. It was weirdly intimate, sitting in silence with Jack, watching him calm himself down, being trusted enough to be here and see him at his weakest. Eric’s heart ached for him. The only thing he wanted in that moment was for Jack to be okay, for him to take a deep breath, look up, and be _well_.

 After a couple of minutes, there was a knock on the door. It creaked open and Shitty stepped into the room.

He looked as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be there, walking slowly, and nervously scratching his moustache with one hand. In the other, he was carrying a plate. He walked over and put it down on the bed on the other side of Jack.

“I made you a PB and J,” Shitty said. “Thought it might make you feel better.”

Shitty waited until Jack turned his head to look at the sandwich. Eric couldn’t see what Jack’s reaction was, but it must have been promising, because Shitty looked slightly less guilty.

“I need to pack. See you later.”

Shitty walked away. Eric had a niggling thought at the back of his mind as he watched Shitty go, and he barely had a heartbeat to decide whether he should act on it or not. As soon as Shitty entered the bathroom he was out of sight, and Eric made up his mind.

“Shitty,” he called, getting off the bed and walking forwards. Out of the corner of his eye, Eric saw Jack turn to look at him briefly and then back down at the floor. Shitty’s head appeared round the corner.

Eric hurried towards the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him. Shitty was looking at him, confused.

“Did you have to shout at him?” Eric said, quietly enough that Jack wouldn’t hear.

Shitty deflated in front of him; he let out a deep breath, his shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the floor for a moment before meeting Eric’s gaze.

“No… He surprised me. I didn’t think he was even in the Haus, and then I saw him with the pill bottle and I snapped. He’d been getting so much better, you know? I was expecting him to get really stressed and antsy about the last few games, especially with his dad ringing him so much, but he wasn’t. I guess I know why now.” Shitty spat out the last few words, but then shook his head. “Make sure he’s okay, yeah?”

Eric nodded. He went back into Jack’s bedroom and found Jack sitting up. The plate Shitty had brought was on his knees and he was taking tentative bites out of the sandwich.

Eric sat back down next to him.

“How is it?”

Jack shrugged. “It’s okay. Not as good as your pies.”

“Of course nothing Shitty can make is as good as my pies.”

Eric smiled and watched Jack eat. He waited until Jack had eaten half of the sandwich before speaking again.

“I meant what I said before, you know. This week is going to be fine. You’ve just been put under so much pressure your entire life. You need to treat the games this week as if they’re regular matches.”

Jack put his sandwich back on the plate.

“All of my post-graduation plans depend on winning on Saturday. I can’t just treat it like an ordinary game.”

“Right.” Eric looked down at his knees. “We can do it, though. I believe in the team, I believe in you. We’ve played amazingly the last few matches, I know we can keep it up. The rest of us want this, too, it’s not just you. We’re all going there to win. We won’t let you down.”

There was silence. After a couple of heartbeats Eric looked up. Jack had turned to look at him, a small smile on his face and a look in his eyes that Eric could only describe as _soft_ , and it made Eric’s heart flutter. He mentally chastised himself, knowing that he’d just fallen for Jack a little bit more.

“Thanks, Bitty. I don’t deserve you.”

Eric smiled back at him. “Sure you do.”

***

They’d flown through the semi-final. Denver hadn’t seen them coming, never mind Jack’s hatty. The team was on a high, everyone - including the Coaches - was a bundle excitement, wound too tight and threatening to snap at any moment, and the energy only increased when they were together.

None of that mattered, however, not when Eric found Jack kneeling over the toilet in the bathroom of the room they were sharing, his Hobey Baker Award lying forgotten on his bed.

“Hey,” Eric said, immediately rushing to Jack’s side, dropping to his knees. Eric’s stomach felt like it had been filled with lead. This was so much worse than the other day. Eric pushed his fear deep down to where he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Jack was the only thing that mattered, and while it didn’t look like he’d been sick, his eyes were red and there were tear tracks down his cheeks.

“I – can’t –” Jack choked out before shaking his head and turning away from Eric.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Eric started rubbing circles on his back, just as he had at the Haus, and it had seemed to help then. “Take deep breaths. Come on, breathe in… breathe out.” Eric watched Jack’s shoulders start to rise and fall a couple of times, before it stopped and shudders wracked through his body. Eric lowered his forehead to rest it on Jack’s shoulder. “Breathe in… breathe out, do it with me, breathe in… breathe out. I’ve got your back, yeah? It’s going to be okay. Just breathe in… and breathe out…”

Eric carried on talking to Jack, getting him to breathe in and out, and talking nonsense to him. Telling him about the time he’d been chased around the park by an angry swan when he was five, and when he’d dressed up as a pie for Hallowe’en when he was ten. Jack coughed out a laugh every now and then, but in the precious few seconds following that in which Eric had paused the story, Jack would tense up and dry heave over the toilet.

It took nearly half an hour for Jack to calm down. It happened slowly, with the tension leaving Jack’s body bit by bit, until he was leaning on Eric for support. When finally Jack’s breathing had returned to normal, he was in Eric’s lap, his eyes closed, and Eric let out a deep breath of relief.

He was glad that the final was tomorrow, if only for the sake of Jack’s mental well being.

***

It was Jack who scored the winning goal with less than a minute to spare.

It was Jack who lifted the trophy at centre ice, beaming from ear to ear and gazing out at the cheering crowd. His expression was one of complete disbelief.

Eric was nothing but shocked when Jack pulled him close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing the trophy into his hands. He raised it into the air, the rest of the team cheering around him, but Eric couldn’t take his eyes off Jack, who was looking at him like he was the most important person in the world. It made Eric blush, and he was grateful when their eye contact was broken by Ransom and Holster lifting him onto their shoulders.

***

“Your dad and I are so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Eric couldn’t help himself, he was grinning.

“You sound so happy. Oh, I can’t believe it, you’re a hockey champion - wait until I tell the girls at church!”

“Mom, no,” Eric said, but he knew it was a lost cause. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had her cell phone in her other hand and was texting every relative they had.

Eric was sitting in the empty changing room. He’d promised his mom he’d ring her after the match, and so he’d taken advantage of the quiet room when the rest of the team had left to blow off some steam. The team minus Jack, that was. He’d barely had time to shower and dress before being whisked off for press interviews.

“Ooh, wait until I tell your aunt Connie, she’s going to be over the moon, and I’m sure I can get everyone at cooking class to bake the team something, I’ll mail it up to you –”

Behind him, Eric heard the door open and he glanced around. It was Jack; he was a little on the pale side, with dark circles under his eyes from not sleeping well the night before, but for once he looked truly happy. He walked to the bench where he’d left his sports bag and looked at Eric expectantly.

“I’ve got to go, mom. We’re going out to celebrate, I’ll ring you tomorrow.”

“Have fun, and be careful. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

Eric put his phone in his pocket and picked up his own sports bag.

“How were the interviews?” asked Eric, walking over to meet Jack.

“Not too bad.” Eric expected Jack to start walking towards the door but he stayed still. “I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you before.”

“What for?”

“The assist on that last goal.”

“Oh.” Eric felt his face flush. “Thanks.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you.” Jack flashed him a quick smile, which quickly fell from his face. “For everything, actually. I’ve been… lucky to have you looking out for me the last few days.”

“It’s no problem. You’re always taking care of the rest of the team, you should have someone looking out for you.”

“I shouldn’t need someone looking after me.” Jack looked down at his feet. “Come on, we should find the others.” He shouldered his sports bag and headed towards the door.

“Hey, none of that Mr. Zimmermann, captain of the NCAA Division one champions,” Eric said, beaming.

Jack didn’t turn around to look at him though, and he had to hurry to catch up to Jack as they entered the corridor. It was empty now, the other team having cleared out a while ago, and no one else had a reason to be back here.

“Not for much longer. That was my last game with Samwell,” Jack said.

“You’re the only person who can find something negative about winning the championship match. Isn’t it exciting that your next game will be with a professional team? It’s gonna be weird watching you on TV.”

“You’ll do that?” Jack asked, turning his head slightly in Eric’s direction.

“Of course! We’ll get the entire team round to the Haus and have a proper showing of it, with snacks and drinks, and Ransom and Holster saying that they knew you before you were a big NHL star.”

“When you say snacks you mean pie, don’t you?”

“You know me too well.”

Jack let out a deep breath. “I’m going to miss you.”

Eric felt his heart constrict in his chest. He ignored it. Jack was just overly emotional, what with the stress of the last few days and having won the championship. He didn’t mean it in the way Eric wanted him to mean it. “We’ve just won - I’m supposed to be happy, not getting upset because you’re leaving.”

“I’m sorry.” Jack paused. “I’ll come back and visit.”

“Sure, you say that now. What about when you’re too busy hanging out with your new teammates?”

“I’ll never be too busy for you,” Jack said, and then froze. Half a second later, Jack started moving again and was staring resolutely ahead, but Eric had seen the surprised expression on Jack’s face.

Eric pretended he hadn’t. “That’s sweet of you.”

“I…” started Jack. He stopped walking so suddenly that Eric had taken another couple of steps before he noticed. Eric turned back to look at Jack, who was looking up and down the corridor and fidgeting with the strap on his bag. “I mean it. I – _merde_ , I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?” Eric asked, wishing that Jack would learn to express himself properly instead of talking in half-finished sentences.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve left it too late now.” Jack started walking again, hurrying past Eric and avoiding eye contact. Eric touched Jack’s arm lightly as he passed.

“Jack… If you need someone to talk to…”

Jack stopped. He exhaled and turned around, taking a few steps closer to Eric. Jack was close to him now, right in his personal space. If Eric was any taller then they’d be nose to nose.

“Bitty,” Jack said, and the way he said it sounded like a sigh, making the hairs on the back of Eric’s neck stand up.

Eric frowned up at him, confused. Jack didn’t usually act this mysterious. Sure, he was a slightly awkward communicator, but it was always fairly obvious what he was trying to say – it helped that it was usually to do with hockey. Jack wasn’t complex, not in this respect. He said what he thought, and that was that; Eric had found himself on the bad side of it more than once. What Jack was doing now was the exact opposite of that, and the longer Eric stared at him, the less his behaviour made sense.

Eric’s confusion didn’t last long, though.

Jack tilted his head down, and then his lips were on Eric’s. Eric went numb, shock making him unaware of anything other than the feel of Jack’s lips and his heart pounding in his chest. He was too shocked to move, until Jack started to pull away, and no, no that wasn’t something Eric wanted him to do. He reached up, standing on tiptoes and put an arm around Jack’s neck to force their lips back together.

Jack made a small sound of surprise, or it might have been a laugh. Eric could feel his grin, and then an arm around his waist and Jack pulled him closer.

The kiss started off chaste, but Eric teased, pulling on Jack’s lips with his, licking along Jack’s lower lip but not prying them open. Jack tightened his grip on Eric, and if there was one way to make today better, then it was this, because Eric had wanted it for so long, and he’d accepted that it was never going to happen. Now that it had, it felt like a dream. Jack was all hot lips and strong arms holding him, and perfect.  Eric never wanted this moment to end.

But end it did.

“Jack, there you are! Have you seen Bi- oh.”

Eric tried to jump backwards, but Jack kept hold of him. Eric couldn’t see Shitty - Jack was in his way - but instead of looking out from behind Jack to face him, Eric buried his face in Jack’s chest.

“I’ll tell Coach Hall that you’re preoccupied. Come out soon though, yeah? We want to get the party started. I guess you two have already started, though,” Shitty said. Eric dared to glance around Jack to see Shitty grinning at them.

“Shitty,” said Jack. He hadn’t turned around to look at Shitty, and he spoke calmly. “Do I need to remind you?”

Shitty’s grin faded somewhat. “Not at all, Cap’n. See you boys outside. Don’t forget to use protection.” He turned tail and left the way he had come.

“Remind him of what?” Eric asked, looking up at Jack.

Jack grinned. “I caught him and Lardo having sex in the locker room once.”

“No!”

Jack gave him a side-eyed look. “You’ve lived with him for a year, how did you not notice that they have… a thing?”

“I don’t know… they don’t act like a couple when they’re with everyone.”

“Well, they aren’t exactly dating.” Jack threw his arm over Eric’s shoulders. “Come on, we should go. Don’t want everyone coming to find us.”

Eric allowed Jack to pull him into his side, and he struggled to stop a smile from spreading over his face as they walked towards the exit. Jack’s warmth next to him felt _right_ , and he looked up at Jack to see him staring down at him.

“You okay?” Eric asked.

“Yeah.”

Jack squeezed Eric’s shoulders, and he heard the unspoken “I’ve got you” that made him blush as Jack pushed open the door to where the rest of the team was waiting for them.


End file.
